Dating since you were 12, friends since you were 5, and now you’re gone?

You’ve known Katsuki for as long as you can remember, and for as long as you can remember, you’ve loved him. And he loves you, the first time he told you was when you taught him how to tie his shoes. Now, 13 years later, 6 years deep in a passionate, picture-perfect relationship, you’ll be gone within the next week. 2 months ago, a powerful couple moved into your small town and bought everything out, prices raised as they tore down old buildings raised with culture and meaning and replaced them with just another Starbucks. Your family has been struggling with rent since the town began the gentrification process, and now, you’ll be moving across Japan within just a week.

So now, you and Katsuki sit on the stairwell up to your apartment, watching the bustle and noise of your hometown. What’s special about now is his arm across your lap, a pencil in your hand, burning your name in kanji onto his forearm with friction from the eraser.

“When I get rich and famous from saving lives, I’m gonna buy you a plane ticket back here. Shoot, I might just buy you a whole plane. And this house so we can live in it.”